


Family Matters

by xBlackxRosexRebellionx



Series: Holder/Tris Series [1]
Category: The Killing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9462998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBlackxRosexRebellionx/pseuds/xBlackxRosexRebellionx
Summary: Stephen Holder goes out on a grocery run with his partner, Trista Malone - an original character I have created. When Holder learns that his partner has agreed to host "family dinner" night at her apartment, he volunteers to help her cook. However, he doesn't realize that he will get an invitation to join them. And he has NO idea what he has just agreed to. Watch Holder as he meets Tris' entire immediate family and her closest friends.Rated T for language and innuendos throughout.





	

**_Author’s Note:_** Well, this is one in a series of many one-shots that I intend to write about Stephen Holder (a fictional character from the AMC TV show, The Killing) and an original character that I created to be his partner, Trista Malone. I’m taking some liberties with the plotline here since I have no intentions of following the plotline of the show. Instead of having the one-shots set in Seattle, Washington, where the show takes place, I chose to have Holder relocate to the fictional city of Jericho, Illinois – once again, a creation of my own – where he was assigned as a partner for a Miss Trista Malone, another officer who has recently been promoted to detective, after he passes his promotional exam and becomes a detective. Rather than have them start off as homicide detectives, I thought I would have them _both_ be narcotics detectives – since that was what Holder originally worked as at King County before he was assigned as Sarah Linden’s partner at the Seattle Police Department in the show. I might eventually decide to change what branch of the precinct they work under. But, for now, they’re narcos.

Also, in this specific one-shot, the characters – Holder and Tris – have been partners at the Jericho Police Department for 5 months. This is a one-shot that is centered around Holder meeting Tris’ family and friends. Any of you that know Stephen Holder’s character know that he is known for his calm, cool demeanor and that he is the kind that sits back and observes individuals before interacting with them. However, in this instance, he is presented with a situation that he had not anticipated. Holder has never met _any_ of his partner’s family but she invites him to help her cook dinner for her family since it’s “family dinner” night. Holder agrees and is then faced with Tris’ _entire_ immediate family and her closest friends in one night.

Also, we see a side of Holder in this story that we haven’t seen in the show. While Holder is usually very calm and collected, we see a jealous Holder in this one-shot. This is something that was hinted on in the show but never really expanded upon in detail. We get little glimpses of what might have been jealousy when Holder asks Linden about other men in her life – he just gets this look on his face and, when she teases him, asking him if he’s jealous, he’s quick to try to play it off, which makes it a little harder to believe. We also see that he’s not exactly all that enthused in the relationship that he has with Caroline in the third season, leading us to believe that maybe Caroline’s not really what he wants – maybe she’s just a fill in for what he wants but can’t have (Linden). We get the sense – _especially_ after he tries to kiss her and she rejects him in the third season – that Holder wants more with Linden but is scared that he’ll push her away if he voices his desire to be more than just partners with her. So he plays it off like it was nothing and he tries to act cool when she’s around. That’s why I felt that the season finale of season 4 was such a pivotal moment between the two characters – not only was it a _huge_ deal for Holder that Linden _finally_ agreed to stay there in Seattle, to stay with _him,_ but Linden finally – and _truly –_ accepts him into her life at that moment.

As a writer, I love to explore various facets of characters. We are usually only given certain aspects of their lives in a movie or a TV show so I like to explore the other sides of their character – whether it be how they react to something when they’re angry or how they grieve behind closed doors when no one else is around or what this particular character might act like when they’re jealous. Since Holder was able to weasel his way through those walls that Tris had built up around her heart – like a fortress to keep her safe from the hurt and disappointment she has experienced in the past – a lot quicker than he did with Linden in the show, it only makes sense that, from that point on, he would form a much closer bond with her than he ever did with Linden. While Tris initially tried to shut him out like Linden did, her defenses didn’t work so well against Holder – let’s face it, he’s Holder. Once they established the fact that they trusted one another in the work environment, then they started hanging out with one another _outside_ of work. And, as far as partners go, the two of them have managed to bond very quickly, which would stir up quite the assortment of feelings towards one another I’m sure – protectiveness, friendship, compassion, loyalty, trust, honesty, comradery, playfulness, and maybe even a slight possessiveness. So, for me as a writer, I found the process of examining Holder’s character and trying to analyze how _I_ felt he would react in these situations to be very interesting and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Since this _is_ a story about Stephen Holder, there are bound to be comical and cheesy moments scattered throughout. I wanted to try to keep him as real as possible, as close to his character as I could. I didn’t want to veer too far off of that – other than the fact that I’m making up my own plotline rather than following the one from the TV show, of course.

Lastly, the songs the lyrics are incorporated from are listed at the bottom of the story, for those of you that are wondering. I try to incorporate the lyrics from songs that I feel are relevant to the plotline or the overall theme of the chapter or one-shot into each of my stories since I tend to be one of those weirdos that listens to music _constantly_ and I often find myself drawing inspiration from certain songs while I write this chapter or that one-shot. But, without further ado, here it is:

 

**_Family Matters_ **

 

“What are you doin’, Tink?” Trista Malone heard her partner, Stephen Holder, inquire as she reached out to wrap both of her small hands around the handle of a cart and tug it out of the long row of carts.

She glanced over at him, finding that his brows were furrowed in confusion, those warm, hazel eyes watching her curiously.

“What’s it look like, Holder?” she asked, her tone playful as a sly little grin curled at her lips, “I’m gettin’ a cart.”

“I see that,” he pointed out, gesturing to his own cart, “But, in case you hadn’t noticed, I already got one.”

She rolled her crystal blue orbs at him and stated, “I’m quite aware of that little fact, Holder. But I don’t want your tofu touchin’ my sausage.”

His brows rose for a moment but he pursed his lips together tightly, clearly fighting back a smile.

Then his eyes widened as a thought struck him and he took on the most comical expression she’d seen him give all day, his jaw falling open as he cried, “Oh my God! Is… Are you tryin’ to tell me somethin’ here, Tris? Are you a dude? You are, aren’t you? I _knew_ it!”

“Ha ha,” she said, her voice completely flat to display the fact that she wasn’t, in fact, amused by her partner’s attempt at a joke, “You’re so funny, Holder. The last time I laughed that hard, I fell off my dinosaur. But, while we’re on the subject, I’m pretty sure my sausage is bigger than yours.”

He gasped, his hazel eyes growing wide, and one of his large hands flew up to cover his firm, broad chest.

“Ouch, Tink! That one hit me right in the feels,” he announced.

“What feels?” she prompted, as he put his own cart back, “You don’t have any feels.”

His brows rose and his eyes widened before he gave a slight nod.

“Oh-ho! Tink’s got _game_ today,” he cracked, “Dial 1-900-Tink.”

Tris shook her head, starting for the furthest aisle in the store. Unlike her partner, she didn’t start at the produce. She started with the frozen foods first and wound her way down the aisles until she finally wound up at the produce last.

“Hey, the produce is that way, Tinky Dink,” Holder pointed out, gesturing towards the fresh fruits and vegetables that were located in the opposite direction of the store from the one she was currently heading in.

“I know,” she replied, never slowing her pace.

“So where you goin’?” he questioned, his brows furrowing as he followed her.

“Well, Holder, in case you hadn’t noticed, this is a _grocery_ store. So I’m gonna get some food. Is that okay with you?” she asked.

“Oh _snap!”_ her partner cried, “Tink’s on a _roll_ today!”

Tris slowed her pace once she’d made it to the freezer section of the store, reaching into the freezer to pull out a roll of hamburger and eyeing the label before checking the price on the sticker.

“Look, I know you love meat and all –,” Holder started to say, a sly little grin curling at his lips.

Tris spared a brief glance in his direction, cocking one blonde brow at him.

“Actually, I think you seriously underestimate my love for meat,” she retorted as her eyes returned to the package in her hand.

“But that’s a _lot_ of beef for one woman,” he continued as if she hadn’t even spoken.

Her lips curled up into a slow, crooked little smirk and, before he could comprehend what was happening, she reached out to smack him in the arm with the roll of beef.

“Jesus, Tink! First you’re talkin’ about your sausage and now you’re beatin’ me with your meat? Next thing ya know, you’ll be walkin’ around in that hotdog costume that kid was wearin’ back at the park!” her partner razzed.

“Holder?” she inquired.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Shut up,” she instructed, “And, for your information, the Rebel Weiner was mild today. Last year, he went streakin’ down the sidewalk, right through the middle of the park, in broad daylight. It was amusing at first, I’ll admit, watchin’ him run from the beat cops. And then he tripped and kind of… _slid_ I guess is the best word to describe it... Yeah. He slid across the sidewalk and got road rash in places you don’t even wanna _think_ about. And that was even funnier, up until they called me for backup to help chase him down. So consider yourself lucky.”

“Wow…” he commented, his eyes growing wide as he gave a slow nod, “Yeah. Thanks for that visual, Tris.”

“You’re welcome,” she retorted, her lips curling up into a big grin as she placed the package of hamburger back into the freezer and grabbed one that was a size smaller.

“I was bein’ sarcastic,” he informed her.

“I wasn’t,” she countered.

“Yeah,” he said, “I got that. Now if you’re done beatin’ me with your meat…”

He gestured with one hand in the direction of the other end of the aisle they were currently standing in.

“Actually…” she pondered aloud, eyeing a roll of sausage that was sitting in the freezer before she picked it up, inspected it, and promptly smacked her partner with it.

“Ow! Jesus!” he cried in protest, reaching up to rub at the sore spot on his arm.

_“Now_ I’m done beatin’ you with my meat,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Was that necessary?” he asked as she started pushing her cart down the aisle.

“Absolutely,” she answered, never missing a beat.

“Yeah. Somehow I find that hard to believe,” he retorted.

Tris rolled her eyes at her partner, fighting back a smile. The things she subjected herself to, and all because she was starting to grow a little fond of the cheeky little bastard.

While she’d never admit it, the first month had been the roughest. To say that she’d been shocked upon walking into her office with her morning coffee and discovering a complete stranger leaning back in the desk chair that was perched in front of the new desk that was pressed up against her own desk was a complete understatement. Hell, she’d damn near dropped her fucking coffee! But there he was, the newbie, chair tipped back with his feet up on his desk, tossing a wadded up piece of paper into a small basketball hoop that he’d hung up on the wall of _her_ office, sinking a 3 pointer like it was nothing. Tris had stopped, brows furrowed, and pulled a quick U-turn, heading out of her office and checking the little plaque that held her name beside her office door, only to confirm that she was, in fact, in the right place. Once that was settled, she barged right back into her office and demanded to know who this stranger was and what the hell he was doing in her office. And she’d been tempted to smack that slow, crooked little smirk right off of his face when he’d pushed himself to his feet and walked across the office to offer her his hand, formally introducing himself as Detective Stephen Holder from King County, Washington, her new partner there at the Jericho Police Department.

Yeah. That first month had been brutal. Not only had she been forced to deal with an ever-present – and ever annoying – shadow that seemed to follow her wherever she went, but she was also forced to face the reality that the newbie was actually _good_ at his job. No. He wasn’t good. He was _damn_ good. And that was even worse. Despite the fact that he didn’t have any connections there in Jericho, despite the fact that he didn’t have a _single_ informant or even know the layout of the land, he was a fucking natural. And, honestly, Tris had learned more from him than he’d learned from her. But she’d never tell _him_ that.

But once they’d gotten past that first month, once she’d gotten past the initial denial of the fact that she’d had a newbie forced upon her as a partner, she’d come to the conclusion that maybe, _just_ maybe, Stephen Holder wasn’t so bad. And, while she didn’t want to admit it – and she’d flat out deny it if questioned about it – they actually had quite a bit in common, something she’d also been forced to face due to his incessant talking. For some odd reason, he felt the undeniable urge to fill the silence between them, which had initially driven her fucking insane.

And yet, over the past 4 months, they’d somehow managed to slip into sync with one another. Things between the two partners had become so smooth, so effortless, so synchronized, so _natural,_ that other officers and detectives there at the precinct had started to razz them, stating that it had to be some sort of miracle. And it was all thanks to Holder, who had staunchly refused to let her shut him out, despite her best efforts to do just that. He’d slowly whittled away at her defenses until he’d finally gotten her to agree to eat dinner with him at his apartment just one month after they’d been assigned as partners. Then one shared meal outside of work had turned to two, then three. Then it had become a weekly, scheduled thing. Monday night was their “dinner night” at Tris’ apartment. Wednesday was usually their _“fuck_ I need a drink” night, which alternated between their two apartments and the drinks varied, depending on their mood and levels of intoxication. Friday night was their “pizza and video games” night at Holder’s apartment. They ate meals together at work – breakfast of a morning, lunch of an afternoon, or dinner of an evening – depending on what shift they worked that day. And, recently, they’d even been going out to grab a bite together after they got off of their shift.

Holder shook his head as he followed his partner down the next aisle.

During the past 5 months, Tris had managed to convert him to the dark side by convincing him to listen to her music. She’d corrupted him until he no longer argued with her over what radio station they listened to in the car they shared for investigative work. His new favorite bands were Hollywood Undead and Evans Blue, both of which he blamed her for. In fact, the song he hummed along to or mumbled the lyrics from when he was bored was “Everywhere I Go” by Hollywood Undead, much to Tris’ amusement. But his frustration didn’t end there. No. She’d introduced him to his latest addiction, Gold Peak’s sweet tea. She’d managed to persuade him that Hunt’s Brothers’ Pizza was the best damn pizza known to man – and that was a fucking fact. When he’d decided he was done with the vegan lifestyle, she’d introduced him to the bacon cheeseburger at her favorite diner, Bernie’s Diner, and he now refused to eat a cheeseburger anywhere else. And, as much as he hated to admit it, she’d turned him into just as big of a chicken fiend as she was – the woman had the greatest love for chicken he’d ever seen, regardless of how it was cooked. She’d shown him that _no_ alcoholic beverage was as good as Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey and Coke. Hell she’d taken him all around the city one night, pointing out this place and that one, telling him the story behind it all. She’d showed him the sights and sounds and smells and tastes of Jericho, the very city that she had been born and raised in.

He didn’t know when but, somewhere down the line, during those past 5 months, something had changed between the two of them. She was no longer annoyed by his very presence, though she’d deny it if she was questioned about it. Now he caught her laughing or smiling more often. She was loosening up around him, slipping into the natural rhythm of things. Things were so smooth, so effortless between them now. They didn’t have to stop and think about it, didn’t have to worry or wonder. Maybe it was the fact that he’d beaten the shit out of a dealer that had smacked her across the face and attempted to strangle her 3 months into their partnership. Maybe it was the fact that she’d taken on one of Jericho’s most notorious gangsters just two weeks later when he’d tried to catch Holder by surprise, tackling the perp to the ground and grappling with him on the ground until she’d managed to get him subdued – and Holder had been shocked speechless when the tiny blonde had dealt the perp a hard, swift kick to the ribs and growled “That’s for tryin’ to cheap shot my partner, ya stupid son of a bitch.” And, while they both knew their actions went against the regulations, they’d corroborated their stories in both instances, remaining firm and consistent in their account of the story, insisting that they’d genuinely feared for their partner’s safety until the lieutenant had finally dropped the subject.

Holder was dragged sharply from his thoughts when a small hand was waved in front of his eyes, snapping him back to the present. He blinked a couple times, his hazel eyes focusing on the petite blonde in front of him.

“Earth to Holder…” his partner called, her blonde brows furrowed as she peered up at him and slowly waved her hand in front of his face, “Come in, turkenstein…”

When she saw that she had his attention, she gave a slow nod, asking, “Where’d you go, ya big turkey? You can’t go wanderin’ off like that. Ya might get lost. Then they’ll assign me a different partner. And then I might just be tempted to kill them.”

Holder couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head at his partner as he razzed, “You know why they assigned you a partner right?”

“Because I’m brilliant and they wanted me to teach the newbie the ropes,” she retorted without missing a beat.

“Not even close,” he replied, shaking his head once more, “They needed someone to keep your sorry ass in line.”

“And how’s that workin’ for ya?” she countered, cocking one brow at him.

He gave a slow nod, mumbling, “Touché, Tink. Touché.”

She shook her head at him, those pretty, pink lips twitching as she fought back a smile.

“Come on, turkenzilla,” his partner told him, gesturing with a wave of her small hand as she turned her back to him and started down the aisle once more, “This is the forbidden frozen section.”

In Trista Malone’s dictionary, that translated to “the ice cream aisle”.

Holder shook his head, chuckling, and followed after her.

 

**_*****_ **

 

“Do you _really_ need 3 boxes of Captain Crunch?” Tris questioned, cocking one blonde brow at her partner.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Holder replied, a serious expression on his handsome face, “It’s a proven fact that the Captain makes me a better crime fighter.”

Tris pursed her lips together tightly at first. Then she started to snicker. Finally, she lost the battle to rein her laughter in, laughing heartily and shaking her head at the tall, lean frame of her partner.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” she asked.

“Oh! Comin’ from the same woman that didn’t even _eat_ breakfast for the first 3 months we were partners?” he countered.

She rolled those bright, Caribbean blue eyes at him before reaching out to snag a box of Lucky Charms and a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

“See if I share me Lucky Charms with you,” she told him in an overly exaggerated Irish accent as she continued on her way down the aisle they were currently standing in.

“What?” Holder inquired, quickening his pace as his partner’s threat registered in his brain, “Hey, that’s not fair! That’s cheating!”

But she just walked on, humming along to the tune of “Everywhere I Go” by Hollywood Undead as if he’d never spoken.

“Tris…?” he called out to her, his long legs easily keeping pace with her as she made her way down the aisle, “Tris?”

_“Everywhere I go, bitches always know that Charlie Scene has got a weenie that he loves to show…”_ she mumbled quietly, her blue eyes scanning over the boxes on the shelf.

She had to hand it to him. It _was_ a really catchy tune. And, if she was honest, that’s probably why it had been the first Hollywood Undead song she’d forced him to listen to during their first month as partners. She’d known then that he’d wind up with the song stuck in his head for the rest of the day. And her plan had worked _brilliantly,_ if she might say so herself.

“Tris, that’s not funny. There are innocent Lucky Charms at stake here,” Holder tried to reason with her.

Then he heard an unfamiliar ringtone, some rock song about _“All the women salute. Salute!”_ , and Tris was digging into her pocket, pulling her cell phone out and answering it.

“Hey, I thought you were in class?” she asked whoever was on the other end of the phone.

He heard a feminine voice on the other line but couldn’t make out the words she was saying.

But Tris’ next words only confirmed his suspicion when she insisted, “I swear to God, if you’re skippin’ class, I’m gonna kick your ass, Aims.”

Holder gave a slow nod. It was her younger sister, Aimsley. He’d heard her talk about the girl on a few occasions. He didn’t know much about her but he’d learned that she was a college student, a sophomore at Jericho University. Hell he didn’t even know what she was studying there, now that he thought about it.

“I’m serious,” Tris stated before informing her sister, “Hang on. I’m gonna put ya on speaker. I’m at the store.”

She eased the phone away from her ear and pressed a button before setting the phone down on the shelf that folded out at the front of the cart.

“I didn’t cut class,” the younger Malone sister retorted, “It was cancelled. And yes, I know you’re gonna check into it.”

“You’re damn skippy,” Tris replied.

Holder had _no_ doubt that his partner would, in fact, be checking into it later.

“So what time is dinner tonight?” the younger Malone sister inquired.

“7:00,” Tris answered, “And don’t go gettin’ your fuckin’ panties in a twist. You can wait that long.”

“Or I can eat before I come,” Aimsley pointed out.

“Well that defeats the purpose, now doesn’t it?” Tris hinted.

“Not if I’m gonna starve to death while I wait,” her sister countered.

Holder saw his partner roll her eyes as she reached out and snagged a bag of honey mustard pretzels and a bag of cheesy Munchies. Then she snagged a bag of Chex Mix next, setting them all in the cart.

“You are _not_ gonna starve,” Tris insisted, “And Jules is comin’ over to help me cook tonight.”

Holder’s brows furrowed and his hazel eyes narrowed slightly as he studied his partner. Jules? Who the fuck was Jules?

“Well, why the hell didn’t you just start with that?” Aimsley questioned, “If Jules is cookin’, I’m in.”

That earned a scoff from Holder’s partner and she rolled those blue eyes again, informing her sister, “I said he was going to _help_ me cook it, not cook it all by _himself.”_

“Yeah, well, that boy can cook,” her sister said, “And that’s the _only_ reason I put up with him.”

“Put up with…” Tris started to ask before she trailed off, only to retort, “Oh please! He’s not _that_ bad.”

“He’s a fucking pretty boy, Tris. Honestly, I’ve _never_ seen you go for guys like him,” the younger Malone sister countered, “He’s not your type at _all!”_

Oh my God! Tris had a _boyfriend?!_ Since when?!

“Have I ever talked shit about one of your boyfriends?” Tris questioned.

“No –,” Aimsley started to reply.

“See,” Tris said, cutting her off.

“You’ve talked shit about _all_ of them,” Aimsley finished.

“That’s because you date fucking punks,” the older Malone sister accused.

“Oh, whatever,” Aimsley scoffed.

“Shut up and give me a suggestion for dinner tonight,” Tris instructed.

“Food,” came her sister’s witty retort.

“Oh gee thanks!” Tris cried, feigning appreciation, “That was _very_ helpful!”

“You’re welcome,” Aimsley replied.

“Fine,” Tris stated, “Have it your way. I’ll fix ‘whatever I feel like’ with a side of ‘eat it or starve’.”

There was no response.

A couple moments went by but the line remained silent. Holder watched as his partner’s brows furrowed.

Then realization dawned on her and she grumbled, “Son of a bitch! She fucking hung up on me!”

Usually, Holder would’ve laughed at that. But he was still stuck on something, his brain hashing and rehashing it as he struggled to process it. Tris had a boyfriend… When the _hell_ had that happened? And, better yet, why the hell hadn’t she ever told him about this guy?

“So…” he hinted, aiming for casual though what he really felt was utter confusion and curiosity, “Who’s Jules?”

His partner’s spine stiffened, her whole body tensing momentarily, before she recollected herself and carried on down the aisle.

“Tris…?” Holder questioned.

It didn’t make sense. If she’d talked about him with her sister so freely, why couldn’t she talk about him with Holder? He thought they’d grown pretty close over the past 5 months that they’d been assigned as partners. But, apparently, Tris had been keeping secrets.

Tris shrugged her shoulders, replying, “Jules is… Jules. I don’t really know how else to explain it.”

Holder’s brows furrowed at that.

“Well what is he to you? Was he an old partner before I got transferred to the precinct?” Holder inquired.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head as she turned to head down the next aisle, leaving him to hurry after her.

“Was he a friend from high school or somethin’?” Holder asked.

“No,” she said, shaking her head once more as her eyes skimmed over the labels on the boxes lining either side of the aisle.

Then a thought struck Holder and he asked, “Did you meet him through the precinct?”

But, again, his partner shook her head, answering, “No.”

Holder’s brows furrowed once more. If he wasn’t an old partner, he wasn’t someone she’d met through J.P.D., and he wasn’t an old friend from high school, that really only left two options – a boyfriend or a fuck buddy. And, if he was honest, he didn’t know which one he’d peg his partner to be more likely to have.

“Then what is he?” Holder pressed.

Tris sighed, stopping suddenly right in front of him, and Holder damn near ran into her, stopping just in time. He moved around the side of the cart to stand at the foot of it, his hazel eyes locked on his partner’s face.

“I met Jules through my brother, Jax. My brother’s an MMA fighter and Jules trains at the same gym he does. Jules doesn’t fight as often as Jax does, but the guys from Jax’s gym go to support him at his fights. It’s kind of a sign of respect, ya know? I’ve never missed a single fight. I’ve been there at _every_ one of Jax’s fights. And Jules has been training at the same gym Jax has for 3 years now. He’s Jax’s accountability partner and he usually fills in as Jax’s cornerman. So I’ve known him for a while. Jax and I go to Jules’ fights to support him too, “share the love” as the boys call it,” Tris explained.

Holder’s brows hiked up his forehead. Holy shit! Her brother was a fucking MMA fighter?! Hell he hadn’t even _known_ she’d had a brother. He’d been partners with her for 5 fucking months and he was just _now_ finding out that his partner had an older brother who was an MMA fighter? And not only that, but his partner was a very adamant supporter of her brother and his fellow gym buddies?

“How long has your brother been fighting?” he inquired.

“Jax started training when he was 16. He had his first fight when he was 19. He’s been fighting ever since. So about… 9 years,” his partner informed him as she started pushing her cart down the aisle once more.

His brows rose at that. That was dedication right there. Holder himself could only stick with a lifestyle choice for a few months at a time, with the exception of his former addiction to meth.

“And you and Jules have been a thing for how long?” Holder questioned.

Tris laughed at that, shaking her head, and replied, “Jules and I are _so_ not a thing.”

Holder’s brows furrowed at that and the words came out before he even realized that he was saying them.

“But the way you and Aimsley were talkin’ on the phone… you made it sounds like there was somethin’ there,” he pointed out.

But Tris shook her head, insisting, “There’s nothin’ there. _Trust_ me. We hang out sometimes. That’s it. Hell we rarely ever hang out without Jax or one of the other guys from the gym bein’ there with us. So yeah. No thing. We’re thingless.”

Holder gave a slow nod as he processed this information.

“But he’s gonna be there at the family dinner tonight?” he pressed when the thought popped into his head, prompting him to ask it.

Tris simply shrugged, stating, “Doesn’t mean a thing. Technically Jax invited him, not me. But Aimsley’s right. The man can cook. And the men in my family eat like fucking horses. So you won’t hear any complaints outta me if he wants to come over and help me cook dinner tonight.”

“I could always come over and help you…” he told her, shrugging his shoulders and trying to act nonchalant as he threw the idea out there.

“Oh no!” Tris cried, shaking her head hard, “I wouldn’t wanna bother you. I mean it’s Saturday night.”

But Holder just shrugged, feigning indifference, and replied, “It’s not like I have anything else to do tonight. I’d just go home and watch my shows. I recorded a couple of things earlier this week but I can always watch ‘em some other time. It’s no big deal. You’re my partner, Tink. You’re my BFF. If Tink needs help, I’ll help a girl out.”

He watched as she pursed her lips together tightly, trying to fight back a smile. But those pretty, pink lips curled up at the corners, despite her best efforts, and he chuckled, shaking his head at her.

“It’s fine, Tink,” he assured her, “Honest. If you need help, I’m down. ‘Sides, if my cookin’ skills are good enough, maybe I’ll even get some free food outta the deal.”

He waggled his brows at her and gave her that crooked little smirk he was known for.

“All right,” the small blonde agreed, “If you help me cook, you can stay for the dinner. Consider it a done deal.”

He gave a slow, sure grin and nodded his head.

Both of them jumped when a loud, obnoxious pop song rang out in the store.

_“She’s so mean, but I gotta love it. And I just can’t let her go. I’m so whipped on her tiny little... She’s a tempting animal. Spends too much and I never tell her no. Drives me nuts and she got me by the throat. She’s so mean, but I gotta love it. And I just can’t let her go.”_

Holder’s hazel eyes skimmed the aisle, searching for the source of the noise to see who had the ridiculous pop song set as their ringtone. But he was shocked speechless when he saw Tris reaching down to accept the call on her phone.

“Yellow?” Tris greeted.

He heard a man chuckling on the other end of the phone before he asked, “Did your phone go green, green, green?”

Holder’s brows furrowed at that. Was this her brother? Or was this Jules?

“Yes,” Tris answered, “My phone went _green, green, green_ and I _pinked_ it up and I said _‘Yellow?’.”_

That coaxed even more laughter from the guy on the other end of the phone. It must’ve been some kind of inside joke the two of them shared or something.

“Hey, so what do you need me to bring tonight, Bug?” the man inquired.

_Bug?_ What the fuck kind of nickname was that? Holder’s brows furrowed and he stared at his partner as she continued to talk to the mystery man on the phone.

“Oh! You don’t have to worry about bringing anything,” she informed him, “I’ve got it covered. Just bring those mad cooking skills and we should be good.”

Holder gave a slow nod as this information processed in his brain. So this was the infamous Jules her sister spoke of? This was Tris’ little secret.

“Well, I think I can handle that,” he replied in a teasing tone.

“Good,” Tris told him, “And before I forget, there’s going to be another body in the kitchen to help us cook tonight.”

“Oh?” Jules questioned.

“Yeah,” Tris answered, “My partner volunteered to help. We’re goin’ shopping now and he didn’t know that I was havin’ the family dinner tonight. So he offered to help when he found out.”

“Well I can leave you guys to it if –,” Jules started to say.

But Tris cut him off, insisting, “No, no! The more the merrier. At least the two of you know how to cook. So you can blame me if it doesn’t turn out so well.”

Jules chuckled but retorted, “Not likely, Bug. You’re a better cook than you give yourself credit for. You just need more experience. Food that comes in a box or a can doesn’t count.”

“That’s what I’ve tried to tell her,” Holder mumbled under his breath.

But apparently he hadn’t voiced that thought quietly enough, if the sharp jab to his ribs from the small blonde beside him was any indication. He wheezed slightly, reaching up to rub at the sore spot, and narrowed his eyes at her.

“You _sure_ you don’t want me to bring anything?” Jules pressed.

“Nah,” Tris assured him, “I’ve got it covered.”

“What time do you want me to be there?” Jules prompted.

“Umm… 5:30ish? That’ll give us an hour and a half before the dinner’s supposed to start but we _both_ know they’re gonna get there early,” she stated.

Jules chuckled at that, joking, “We _all_ know Aimsley’s gonna be the _first_ one there. She’ll come ready to eat and she’ll bitch if the food’s not on the table by 6:45.”

“This is true,” Tris agreed with a nod.

“All right. Well, I’ll letcha get back to your shoppin’,” Jules told her, “But I’ll see ya soon.”

“Yep,” she said, giving a nod of her head, “And you’d better come prepared.”

Holder’s brows furrowed at that. Come prepared? What did that mean?

“Don’t I always?” Jules retorted.

“Took you two fucking years, but you’ve finally learned your lesson,” Tris razzed.

He just laughed.

“See ya soon,” she told him.

“See ya soon,” he agreed.

Then Tris hung up.

Holder cocked one brow when his partner looked up at him.

“What?” she asked.

“When were you gonna tell me about your little boyfriend?” Holder teased.

She gave him a crooked little smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and reached into the cart to pull out the roll of hamburger, only to smack him in the arm with it.

“Ow! Fuck!” he protested, “Would you quit beatin’ me with your meat already? Jesus!”

“Admit it,” she purred, grinning up at him, “You like it when I beat you with my meat.”

“Yeah, see? That just sounds _so_ wrong comin’ from a girl,” Holder pointed out.

But she was already moving, heading down the aisle. She was a woman on a mission and nothing was going to stop her.

 

**_*****_ **

 

Stephen Holder didn’t even bother to go home and change. Tris had told him that he could just head home with her and stash his groceries in her fridge or the freezer until he left later that night. He’d helped her put all of her groceries away and Holder had made them drinks while they’d waited for her little lover boy to show up. They’d shared small talk, sipping on Honey Jack and Coke, while they passed the time.

So there he was, wearing his favorite gray hoodie over a white wife beater, his solid black converse with black laces, and his baggy blue jeans, when there was a knock at the door of Tris’ apartment. She shuffled, barefooted, over to answer the door, pulling it open even as Holder leaned over, craning his neck around the doorway of the kitchen in an attempt to catch a glimpse of this mysterious “Jules” that his partner of 5 months had chosen to keep a secret from him.

Holder’s brows rose sky high when he saw the guy that stood on the other side of the door and he barely managed to suppress the urge to laugh. His jaw fell open and his brows rose halfway up his fucking forehead as he took the guy all in. There, on the other side of the door, stood a young man – hell maybe even a _boy –_ that couldn’t have been an inch over 5’10”. He was slender, lean, wearing a pair of black, skinny jeans that clung to his frame, hugging his body, and a baggy, black t-shirt. He wore black skateboard shoes with white trim and white laces and his wild, brown curls were long, falling down to brush his shoulders. His eyes were forest green in color, his lips full, his cheeks slender. He had a baby face, soft features, and those long curls didn’t help his case any either. He looked like a mama’s boy as far as Holder was concerned, with the exception of the tattoos that Holder spotted poking out from under the short sleeves of his t-shirt, the black ink scattered down the majority of his left arm. The guy looked more like a model for a fashion magazine than an MMA fighter. No way in _hell_ did he train at the same gym with Tris’ brother!

But when the guy pulled Tris into his arms, she didn’t stiffen like she did when anyone else tried to pull her into an embrace. Instead, she practically melted right into him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight, warm embrace. She let him press a kiss to her temple and hold her for a moment longer, breathing him in as she tucked her face into his broad chest, before she finally stepped out of his embrace, her pretty, pink lips pulled up into a big, bright smile.

“There’s that smile,” mystery man announced, pointing his index finger at her, “Brighter than the sun.”

“You’re fuckin’ blind,” Tris bantered playfully, rolling those blue eyes at him and laughing as she shook her head.

“Hate to break it to ya, but I’ve got 20/20, sweetheart,” Casanova-in-training declared, promptly shooting down her claim.

“Uh huh, sure,” she retorted, “Likely story but I don’t believe it.”

“Well believe it, Bug,” he said, “’Cause it’s true.”

Okay. Now Holder _knew_ that this was Jules. He had the confirmation right there. Jules had called her “Bug” over the phone. So it _had_ to be him. But he still couldn’t believe that the man standing in front of him was a fucking MMA fighter.

“Now you’re just lyin’,” she teased, a playful grin on her face.

“How do you do it?” he asked, his green eyes slowly raking over her small frame.

Holder didn’t like how his eyes lingered on Tris’ curves and he barely suppressed the growl that threatened to rumble up from his chest, his large hands balling into fists at his sides before he brought his arms up to cross them over his firm, broad chest.

“Do what?” Tris asked, her brows furrowed and her head tilted slightly in confusion.

“How the fuck do you manage to look so fucking perfect in a pair of cotton shorts and your favorite tank top?” Jules questioned, “I mean you’re not even _trying_ and you still look ravishing.”

Holder scoffed, rolling his eyes at the punk.

Ravishing? _Really?_ Who the fuck even said that anymore?

But, much to his surprise, Tris’ bright, blue eyes grew wide and her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, making Holder’s jaw fall open in pure shock, his hazel eyes growing wide and his brows hiking up his forehead. In the 5 months that Holder had been working with Trista Malone, he had only seen her blush a grand total of 3 times, including tonight.

If he was honest though, Holder had to admit that Tris could put _any_ woman to shame in those short, gray, cotton shorts and that charcoal gray, razorback tank top that she’d changed into when they’d gotten back to her apartment after their little grocery run. It wasn’t anything special but she still looked stunning, even with those long, wild, blonde waves pulled up into a messy bun, a few stubborn curls falling out to frame her face.

“Are you done embarrassing yourself now?” Tris hinted, “Can we go to the kitchen?”

She turned and started down the short hallway that branched off to the other rooms of her small apartment.

“Embarrassing myself?” Jules questioned, following closely behind her, “I didn’t realize that complimenting a pretty lady was embarrassing.”

That earned a not-so-feminine snort from Tris and Holder knew that the Trista Malone he knew was back.

She shook her head, laughing, as she retorted, “Okay. Now I _know_ you’re feedin’ me a pack of bullshit. We _both_ know I’m no lady.”

_That_ was true. That was one of the _first_ lessons Holder had learned about his partner: Trista Malone was _no_ lady. She might’ve been a woman, but she was sure as hell no lady. In fact, most days, she acted more like a man than a woman. She was a total tomboy, down to the core. She drank like a man. She cussed like a sailor. She refused to read anything “sappy” and there wasn’t a _single_ chick flick to be found in her apartment. She wore sweatpants and wife beaters or a pair of shorts and her favorite tank top on her days off. She watched football and hockey and MMA matches on TV. She didn’t mind getting dirty and she didn’t give a shit if she cracked a nail. She never wore makeup and she didn’t spend 2 hours getting ready when she had to leave the apartment. But that was Tris and that was fine by Holder. He wouldn’t change her for anything, even if she _did_ get on his nerves on occasion. That’s just how she was. And that was fine by him. She accepted him, just as he was, and he’d accept her just as _she_ was.

Holder quickly stepped away from the doorway, sauntering over to lean against the counter and trying to look as casual as possible. And just in time too because, as soon as he’d crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the countertop, Tris entered the kitchen with Jules in tow.

Jules’ brows rose slightly when his green eyes landed on Holder and Holder couldn’t help the slow, sure, crooked smirk that stretched across his face. Holder practically _oozed_ confidence, acting as if he belonged there. And, as far as Holder was concerned, he did. He was older than this punk, wiser to the ways of the world. He knew what Jules would see, his long, lean frame stretched out, his arms crossed over his firm, broad chest and his legs crossed at the ankles as he relaxed back against Tris’ kitchen counter. He was taller than Jules, standing at 6’3”, compared to Jules’ puny 5’10” frame. He was broader than Jules, despite the fact that they were both on the lean side. Holder looked like a _man,_ his long sideburns, his short, light brown hair, and his goatee standing out in stark contrast with the clean-shaven, baby face and long, boyish curls Jules sported. Holder looked rugged, roguish, compared to Jules’ boyish charm. He looked like one of those fucking boy band pop singers that little girls and teenage drama queens fawned all over. And, while he might’ve had more tattoos than Holder did, most of his looked random. Holder’s all had some kind of meaning behind them, whether it be the name of a beloved family member, such as his niece and nephew, or the symbol of his Christian faith he’d gotten when he’d gotten clean or even the tribal, floral design he’d gotten on his arm to signify his older sister, Liz. Holder hadn’t gotten his tattoos on a whim like this guy had. No. Holder had put quite a bit of thought into all of his.

But the thing that Holder found the most off-putting, the thing that made him bite his bottom lip until he nearly broke the skin to keep from laughing at the little punk, was the fact that this guy was wearing _skinny_ jeans. Fucking _skinny_ jeans! What guy in his right mind wore _skinny_ jeans! For fuck’s sake! His junk _had_ to be suffocating in those fucking things!

He was jerked out of his thoughts by a familiar soft, sweet voice as his partner cleared her throat and introduced, “Well, Jules, this is my partner, Stephen Holder. Holder, this is a good friend of mine, Julian Stone.”

Jules gave a single, downward nod, and waited, his emerald orbs fixed on Holder. Holder wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t giving this punk the upper hand. He knew how this worked. The first man that lowered his defenses was marked the weak one. No. He was going to make Jules come to _him._

And he did. After a moment, Jules crossed the kitchen and reached out, offering Holder his hand. Holder accepted it, giving him a firm handshake before easing his hand away.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jules informed him, “Tris has told me _quite_ a bit about you.”

Holder’s brows rose at that and he commented, “That’s funny. Because she’s never mentioned you.”

Jules’ brows furrowed and he turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Tris.

“Okay, let’s put the dicks away, boys. This isn’t the octagon. This is my fucking kitchen,” Tris pointed out, “So we’re gonna cook. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

“Of course!” Jules answered, nodding his head, “I’m here, whatever you need.”

_“We’re_ here, whatever you need,” Holder corrected him, narrowing his hazel eyes slightly at the smaller man and pushing himself up off of the counter, “You just tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”

“Well you can both start by puttin’ your dicks and your rulers away. No egos in this kitchen,” Tris instructed, looking at first Holder and then Jules.

Holder’s brows furrowed and he asked, “Why you lookin’ at me first, Tink? I didn’t do shit.”

She cocked one blonde brow at him and pointed at him, reminding him, “I know you, Holder. This isn’t typical Holder behavior. I don’t know what your deal is, but cut the shit or I’ll show you right out the front door. I mean it.”

Then she looked over at Jules and stated, “I work with Holder. So don’t do anything stupid. You can walk away. I see him on a daily basis. Holder and I are in a good place as partners. Don’t fuck that up for me.”

Jules just nodded his head, showing his compliance. Then Tris returned her gaze to Holder and he gave a slow, reluctant nod. He could see her point, even if he hated the punk already.

“All right,” Tris announced, “Now that that’s settled, let’s get crackin’ on dinner, shall we?”

 

**_*****_ **

 

Holder discovered a _whole_ new side of his partner that evening. The first thing she’d done, before she’d even started laying the food they’d be cooking out, was head into the living room and turn on her stereo, placing a mixed CD into the mixer and pressing play. And Holder had been shocked to discover that the first song was a pop song – something he hadn’t exactly anticipated since she always made him listen to metal or rock songs when they were in the patrol car.

An upbeat tempo started to play and Tris started to swing her hips along to the music, dancing back into the kitchen and bopping her head along to the beat. Holder had _never_ seen his partner dance, not even when they were undercover. But it was _definitely_ a sight to behold. She moved so smoothly, so naturally. It was so effortless and easy, the way she moved her body to the beat, and Holder found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

Then the small blonde did the most amazing thing. She opened that pretty mouth and started to sing, something Holder had _never_ heard her do in the 5 months they’d been assigned as partners at the Jericho Police Department. Sure, he’d heard her hum along to the beat of a song but he’d never heard her _sing._

_“Background noise are all the things that get in the way. I had no choice. You came to me. I took you around but it didn’t matter where we were going. You’re the only sound that I ever want to hear... Come with me and I’ll take you away if you’ll let me. Stay with me and I’ll cover your soul with my body. Give me your heart and I’ll give you my love. It’s a work of art when you shine like the sun. So give your heart to me... Give your heart to me,”_ she sang along to the song.

Holder’s hazel eyes grew wider by the second as he listened to his partner sing. Never had he imagined that she could sing like _that._

Holder spoke up, stating, “New patrol car rule. Tink has to sing _every_ song she knows the lyrics to from now on.”

Tris gave a little snort and shook her head, laughing.

“Yeah, right,” she joked, reaching up into one of the cabinets to grab a bowl, “I’ll get right on that, Holder.”

“I’m serious,” he told her, walking over to reach up and grab it for her since she couldn’t quite seem to reach it, even when she stood up on her tiptoes, “I didn’t know you could sing.”

He set it on the counter beside her and turned to lean back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied her.

“Tris has never sang in front of you before?” Jules questioned, his brows furrowed as he followed her around the room with his eyes.

“No,” Holder replied, both men watching the small blonde move around the kitchen, dancing as she went to grab a large package of chicken breasts from the freezer, a bag of potatoes from one of the cabinets, and three cans of corn from a different cabinet.

She swung her hips, spinning around in a little circle, and continued to sing quietly as she went to find a big skillet and a large pan.

“Tris only sings or dances around those she’s close to,” Jules informed Holder, gesturing with a nod in the direction of said blonde, “Her family and closest friends are the only ones that have seen that side of her. How long did you say you’ve known her?”

Holder’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring, and he fought the urge to strangle the fucker. Holder had a closer bond with his partner than she had with even her sister or her father. And the fact that this fucking punk, some guy that hadn’t even known Holder for half a fucking hour, would insinuate that Holder didn’t know his own partner of 5 months was enough to make him stuff his large hands into his pockets to keep from wrapping them around this punk’s fucking throat.

“5 months,” Tris answered for Holder as she found another pan and set both pans on the stove, “Holder and I spend 5 or 6 days a week together, usually for more than 8 hours a day, depending on the case we’re workin’ on and where we’re at with it.”

Jules nodded slowly and Holder moved to plug in the electric skillet, asking, “Whatcha need help with, Tris?”

“Don’t let him get under your skin,” she murmured, her voice quiet enough that Holder was the only one that could hear her, “Jules didn’t get to see me dance or hear me sing for a year after I met him. Consider yourself one of the few people I’ve developed a close bond with in a short period of time. But I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, now did I?”

He stole a glance over at her, seeing the playful look in those bright, blue eyes and the crooked little smirk that curled at her pretty, pink lips.

“What can I say?” Holder teased, a crooked smile curling at his own lips, “I take no prisoners.”

She laughed at that, shaking her head at him, and told him, “All right. I need to tear these puppies into strips, dip them in egg, and then coat them in flour before I put them on to fry.”

She tore the package of chicken open and Holder reached out to gently ease it from her grasp, assuring her, “I’ve got it. You do whatever ya need to. I can do this.”

She offered him a bright smile and he found his own lips twitching just before one of his characteristic, crooked little smirks curled at his own lips. That smile was so damn infectious.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re not on that vegan diet anymore,” Tris razzed.

“I blame you for that,” he teased right back.

She gasped, one hand flying up to cover her chest, and her jaw fell open as she cried, “Well I never!”

Holder just laughed, knowing that his partner was teasing him, and shook his head at her.

“Should’ve figured you’d fix chicken for the family dinner,” he bantered playfully.

“Oh! Keep it up, Slim Shady, and you won’t get any chicken,” she retorted, snagging the bag back from him.

“Oh! Now that’s just mean, Tink,” he accused.

“He used to be a vegan?” Jules asked from behind them, coming up to set one hand on Tris’ hip, “Maybe you should let me take over the chicken, Bug. He might not be comfortable cooking meat if he’s not used to it.”

Holder’s eyes locked on Jules’ hand as it rested on his partner’s hip. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched even as a strong and undeniable wave of jealousy surged through him. _Never_ had he experienced that before. But something about the way that cocky little motherfucker rested his hand on Tris’ hip and moved in closer sparked a sense of sharp and sudden anger in Holder.

Holder’s hands balled into fists by his side, not that the other man could see it, and he nearly growled, “I _used_ to be a vegan. It was short-lived. Tink here kinda ruined that. I’ve been eating and _cooking_ meat for 3 months now. I’ll be fine.”

He reached out for the package of chicken once more, but Tris surprised him, passing the bag over to Jules.

“No he’s right,” Tris stated, “I didn’t even think about that. I’m sorry, Holder. Here, why don’t you let Jules take over chicken duty? You can help me with the potatoes. I’ve gotta skin ‘em before I can boil ‘em. And we’re gonna need _plenty_ of potatoes tonight. I’ll let you do the corn later when we’re ready for it. But I could really use the help with the potatoes.”

“You got it,” Holder said with a nod, following her over to the bag of potatoes she had laid out by her sink.

She opened the bag, grabbed a couple peelers, and informed him, “We can peel ‘em right over the garbage disposal. Unlike your sink, mine actually had a garbage disposal. It helps when you don’t wanna throw a bunch of food into your trash, especially if you live alone and it takes a while for you to accumulate trash.”

He cocked one brow at her and teased, “You makin’ fun of my sink, Tink?”

“Maybe,” she bantered playfully, crossing those pretty blue eyes at him and sticking her tongue out.

Another song that Tris liked came on, the music blaring out of her stereo, and Tris started to sing, that soft, sweet voice filling the kitchen as she nodded her head to the beat.

_“I’m on my 14 carats. I’m 14 carat. Doin’ it up like Midas. Mmm… Now you say I got a touch so good, so good, make you never wanna leave. So don’t. So don’t. Gonna wear that dress you like, skintight. Do my hair up real, real nice. And syncopate my skin to your heart beating. ‘Cause I just wanna look good for ya, good for ya. Uh huh. I just wanna look good for ya, good for ya. Uh huh. Let me show ya how proud I am to be yours. Leave this dress a mess on the floor. And still look good for ya, good for ya. Uh huh,”_ she sang as she worked on rinsing the potato in her small hands.

Holder was genuinely surprised by the music she listened to on her downtime. The music she listened to at work was so different, so much heavier. But the songs on her mixed CD were lighter, more chilled. It was definitely a stark contrast from the music she played in their patrol car.

A man came on and started rapping and Holder couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he realized that the whole song wasn’t just the woman singing. As much as he hated to admit it, Tris had initially pegged him right when she’d guessed that rap music was his favorite genre.

He smirked to himself when the song ended and a rap song took its place. He smiled as he heard Tris singing along to the lyrics. And, since it was one that he actually knew, Holder joined in.

_“My girl don’t want me ‘cause of my dirty laundry and I think that she knows I’m outta control. With all of this money, they all want somethin’ from me. It’s startin’ to show. I’m outta control,”_ he sang, joining right in with his partner.

He watched as she turned her head to look at him, her brows high on her forehead and those crystal blue orbs wide in surprise.

“You know this song?” she questioned.

“Blackbear’s the shit,” he told her, “This is my jam.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him.

“I love his music,” she admitted, returning her attention to the potato in her hands.

“Looks like we’ve got _another_ thing in common now,” Holder joked.

“Guess so,” she agreed.

He stole a peek at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her give a slow, crooked smirk as she said, “You know… I never would’ve guessed that you could actually sing. I figured you were like some Eminem wanna be or somethin’. Don’t get me wrong, Eminem is my favorite rapper. But I didn’t know you could actually sing.”

“Yeah?” he inquired, “Well guess what, Tink? I’ve got _mad_ singin’ skills.”

“Okay, now you’re just pushin’ it,” she cracked, shaking her head at him.

“Tris?” Jules asked, butting into their conversation and reminding Holder of the little punk’s existence, “The skillet’s full.”

“All right!” she called back, “Thanks, Jules. You know the chicken routine. I trust you with my chicken.”

“So you and this Jules guy…” Holder whispered, leaning in a little closer so that only his partner could hear him as they worked on peeling potatoes, “You ever… _you know?”_

“Oh, no!” Tris cried, shaking her head hard, _“God_ no!”

Holder couldn’t help but smirk at that.

“No, it’s nothin’ like that,” his partner assured him, “It’s just… I don’t know. We’re friends, you know? We both support Jax at his fights and Jax invites him to some of the family dinners and stuff.”

Holder nodded slowly as his brain processed that information. It was a purely platonic relationship from Tris’ standpoint. Thank _fuck_ for that. But, judging by the way Jules looked at her, judging by the way he invaded her personal space, _he_ wanted something more. Holder would just have to keep tabs on it, make sure that the little punk wasn’t pushing his luck. Because if that little punk stepped out of line, he might just have to beat his ass.

 

**_*****_ **

 

An hour later, Tris and Holder were singing Blackbear songs to each other.

Tris had Bob – the wooden spoon she’d drawn a smiley face on in black, permanent marker – in one hand, holding it up close to her mouth as she leaned closer to him and sang, _“All these pictures that we takin’, I know one day I’ll be cropped out. And I know you coppin’ feelings. I got money. Put your card down, down.”_

_“But you look so good on my arm, goddamn. Girl, you know it. Girl, you notice. Go on, give me the best you got tonight,”_ he sang back, a smile stretching clear across his face as he sang into Bob’s “cousin”, George.

That was when the front door of the apartment opened and heavy feet approached the kitchen, an unfamiliar face appearing as a man poked his head into the kitchen. Holder tensed, every muscle in his body going rigid as his eyes flickered from Tris to the man standing in the kitchen doorway and back.

“Jesus, Jules!” the guy exclaimed, gesturing with one hand to the two of them, “You’re supposed to be supervisin’ this shit. I come here and find these two havin’ karaoke night right here in the damn kitchen? What’s this nonsense?”

Holder’s brows furrowed. Who the hell was this guy?

But he got his answer when Tris set Bob on the counter and hurried over to the man, pulling him into a tight, warm embrace. Holder smiled at that, relaxing a little as he realized that the man didn’t pose a threat to his partner.

Holder’s eyes raked over the man as Tris and the mystery man shared their embrace, taking him all in. He probably stood at 6’0”, built with broad shoulders and a firm frame. The tight, black t-shirt he wore stretched across his firm, expansive chest and his jeans were old and “well-loved” as Tris called it, having a faded look with a hole clear across one knee and a small hole just below his other knee. He wore scuffed, brown boots on his feet that matched his rugged appearance. His hair was short and light brown in color, his eyes a pale shade of blue. His cheeks were slender, his lips full, and he bore facial hair in the form of a short, trimmed beard.

 “Oh my God!” Tris cried, “I missed you!”

_That,_ in itself was something Holder had _never_ heard his partner say – to _anyone. Ever._

The man just laughed, shaking his head, and replied, “Hey now. I just saw ya two days ago. Don’t go gettin’ all mushy and shit on me.”

 “Two days is a _long_ time without my partner in crime,” Tris retorted, cocking one blonde brow at the man.

“I guess,” the man said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

“You guess?” she questioned, her brows raised in disbelief, “You _guess?”_

A slow, sure grin stretched across the man’s face and he pulled her into another warm hug, holding her close and pressing a kiss to the top of his head as he murmured, “Ya know I missed ya, baby girl.”

“Where are my nieces?” Tris inquired, easing back from his embrace to peer up at who Holder now knew was her older brother, Jax.

“Aimsley’s got ‘em,” he told her, “She picked ‘em up after school and she’s gonna bring ‘em over tonight. I’m surprised she’s not already here to be honest. I figured she’d be the first one here.”

“You and me both,” Tris agreed.

The door opened and Holder heard a loud, “Aunt Tris?!”

“Twis! Auntie Twis!” came a second voice.

Tris hurried out of the kitchen, heading down the hall toward the entryway of her apartment.

_“There_ they are!” Tris cried, “I was just asking your daddy about you.”

Jax made his way over to Jules and clapped him on the back, peering over his shoulder and grinning from ear to ear when he saw what was frying in the skillet.

“Don’t you burn that shit, man,” Jax instructed, “I’ll beat your ass.”

Holder snorted at that, coughing to cover up his laughter when both men turned their heads to look over their shoulder at him.

“Ah… So this is the infamous Holder?” Jax questioned, a smirk curling at his lips as he made his way over to extend one hand out for Holder to shake.

Holder gave him a firm handshake and nodded his head, introducing, “Detective Stephen Holder.”

“Jax Malone,” Jax greeted, giving a single, downward nod of his head as he sized him up, his eyes raking from the top of Holder’s head clear down to the soles of his shoes.

“Well let’s go see those boys,” Holder heard his partner’s voice, “Let’s see what they’re doin’.”

“What daddy doin’?” Holder heard a small voice inquire.

“I don’t know, baby girl,” Tris replied, “Let’s go find out.”

Holder heard the patter of little feet on the hardwood floor and Tris appeared with two young girls, one held tight against her hip and the other holding her hand as she walked along beside her. The younger of the two girls was tucked against Tris’ hip and Holder had to admit that she was probably the cutest little girl Holder had ever seen. Holder guessed that she was probably only 2 years old, old enough to walk around on her own but not old enough to speak full sentences yet. She had masses of brown curls that framed her adorable little face and fell down to her shoulders. She had big, brown doe eyes, chubby little cheeks, and a cute little nose with a slight upturn to the end of it. The older of the two girls had shorter hair that was a light shade of blonde and big, blue eyes. Her hair was as straight as could be, unlike the cute little ringlets that her sister sported. She had a cute little button nose and adorable, rounded cheeks. Holder guessed that she was probably the same age as his nephew, Davy, making her around 4 years old.

Holder walked over to them slowly, not wanting to spook the girls, and watched as their eyes grew real wide.

“Girls, this is my partner, Holder. I see him at work. We ride around in the car together and catch the bad guys. He makes sure that I stay safe,” Tris explained.

“He _weal_ big,” the younger of the two girls said, blinking those big, brown eyes as she gazed up at him.

He knelt down so that he was closer to the older girl’s size and reached out to offer her his hand.

“Hey, chicklet, I’m Holder,” he introduced himself.

The girl giggled, shaking her head, and said, “I’m not chicklet. I’m Zoey.”

“Well that’s a pretty name,” he told her, “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The girl grinned up at him and Holder pushed himself onto his feet, leaning down slightly so that he was closer to the other girl’s size.

“And what’s your name, pretty girl?” Holder asked, offering her a warm smile.

“I _Ja-_ nelle,” the little girl informed him.

Holder’s smile stretched even wider and he told her, “That’s a pretty name too. I see why your Aunt Tris has been hidin’ you from me. You’re too damn cute.”

“Aren’t they though?” Tris inquired, “I just wanna eat ‘em up.”

She leaned in and pretended to maul at Janelle’s neck, making “Nomm nomm nomm!” noises, and the little girl giggled uproariously, shoving at her face.

“Twis! Twisie! Top it! Top it!” the girl protested, struggling to catch her breath between fits of laughter.

“All right, all right. That’s enough of that. Daddy hasn’t gotten a chance to love on ‘em yet today,” Jax said, walking across the room and easing his youngest daughter out of Tris’ arms, which quickly earned him a dirty glare.

Jax tucked his youngest daughter in close, pressing a kiss to her cheek and breathing her in as she grinned up at him, hugging him as tight as her little arms would allow her to.

“There’s my Janellie. I missed ya today while I was at work. You miss me, J-Bug?” he asked.

“I miss you, daddy,” she confirmed, nodding her little head.

“What about you, Zo?” Jax asked, kneeling down as his oldest daughter walked over to join them.

He hoisted her up onto his opposite hip and gave her a squeeze, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

The girl giggled, feeling the scruff of his beard, and shook her head at him, telling him, “No. Auntie Aims played funny videos of you on her phone.”

Jax cocked one brow as he looked over at the young blonde that appeared in the doorway, leaning against it casually with her arms crossed under her chest.

The younger Malone sister was taller than Trista, her hair a bit darker, like Jax’s. Unlike Tris’ golden strands, Aimsley’s were a rich shade of caramel with lighter highlights throughout. Her hair was long and straight and she wore it down today. Her eyes were a pale shade of blue, like Jax’s, and she had slender cheeks and full lips, like both of her siblings. She was taller than Tris, standing at 5’8”, compared to Tris’ mere 5’3” frame. Aimsley was also slimmer than Tris, having a petite frame. While Tris was short, she was curvier than her sister’s wiry frame. Tris had larger breasts and her ass was a bit bigger. But that wasn’t to say that she was unattractive in _any_ way. Aimsley was just taller, slimmer, and her curves weren’t quite as dramatic. But she was still a pretty young woman.

“What lies have you been tellin’ my daughters?” Jax questioned, peering over at the younger Malone sister.

“They’ve never seen their dad when he had long hair,” she bantered, a playful grin tugging at her lips, “They didn’t believe it was you ‘til they heard your voice.”

“When did you have long hair, daddy?” Zoey inquired, gazing up at her father.

“That was a _long_ time ago, Zo Zo,” he replied.

“You can say that again,” Holder heard a feminine voice pipe up, causing his head to jerk around.

He discovered an unfamiliar face as a young woman walked into the kitchen to stand just inside the doorway, a bright smile on her face. This must have been the close friend that Tris was always talking about. What was her name? What was it that Tris always called her? Jade?

“Jay!” Tris cried, making her way over to pull the girl into her arms and give her a tight hug.

“Well it’s nice to see you too, Tris,” Jade teased, smiling at her friend.

“You’ll have to excuse her,” Jax teased, “She’s been sufferin’ from withdrawals. It’s been, what…? Two days? Three?”

“Three,” Jade answered, “Not that anyone’s counting.”

Tris eased back from the hug and gestured in Holder’s direction, informing her best friend, “Jay, this is my partner, Stephen Holder. Holder, this is my best friend, Jade Ramsey.”

Holder nodded to the woman, walking over to offer her his hand. She shook his head, nodding to him, and then moved to lean back against the side of the doorway that Aimsley wasn’t currently occupying.

“So how’s my favorite babysitter?” Jax razzed as his daughters squirmed in his grasp.

“Well the reason she was late today was because her car broke down and she _tried_ to call you but you wouldn’t answer your damn phone,” she informed him as he set the girls down and they flocked right towards her, Janelle reaching up to be held and Zoey wrapping her arms around Jay’s leg.

“Oh shit!” Jax exclaimed, digging into his pocket for his cell phone, “Seriously?”

Jay just nodded, reaching down to lift Janelle up into her arms, and Jax checked his phone to see that she was, in fact, telling the truth.

Jay set Janelle on one hip and reached down to ruffle Zoey’s hair with her other hand. Zoey gave her a playful little glare and reached up to straighten her mussed hair, making Jay laugh.

“Shit! I’m sorry, Jay. I was workin’ late today. We were workin’ on this house out in BFE and I didn’t have any reception,” Jax explained.

_“BFE?”_ Holder mouthed, looking over at his partner for a translation.

“Bum Fuck Egypt,” she murmured quietly.

Holder nodded then.

Aimsley gazed around the kitchen, asking, “Who are we still waiting for anyway?”

“Dad,” Jax and Tris answered at the same time.

“Have no fear, Marcus is here!” a deep voice called out, nearly making Holder jump right out of his skin.

“Jesus!” he cursed under his breath, “I didn’t even hear him come in.”

“He’s good at that,” Aimsley commented even as Tris hurried out of the kitchen, crying, “Daddy!”

Holder’s brows rose at that. He’d never seen Tris give _anyone_ that much fanfare.

“Ah… _There_ she is!” he heard a deep voice call, prompting him to saunter over to the kitchen doorway and poke his head out just in time to see his partner jump into a middle-aged man’s arms.

Holder’s jaw fell open, his eyes growing wide and his eyebrows hiking up his forehead as he watched the exchange. Tris wrapped her arms around the man’s neck, lacing her long, slender legs around his slender waist, and gave him a full body squeeze as he wrapped his own arms around her slender waist and hugged her back.

“Oh my God! I _missed_ you!” she cried, hugging him tighter before he carefully set her back down on her feet.

“Well I missed you too, sweetheart,” the man told her, “How have you been? I haven’t seen you in… what? Two weeks?”

Tris nodded, replying, “Yeah. I’ve been busy with work and you were gone on your hunting trip. How’d it go?”

“It went well,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, “I bagged a bear while I was up there and a couple deer. Remind me to bring some meat over for you the next time I see ya.”

“Oh my God! You got a _bear?”_ she inquired, mirroring Holder’s thoughts.

Holy _shit!_ Holder had never heard his partner talk about her father being a hunter, let alone the fact that he hunted things as deadly as _bears._

He nodded, replying, “Massive thing, big old grizzly. He was probably 10 feet tall when he stood on his hind feet.”

Tris’ eyes grew real wide and she murmured, “Wow…”

“He was really somethin’,” her father informed her, “And the next time you come over, you’ll get to see the new rug they made out of him.”

Tris nodded her agreeance and Holder took the time to size the man up. Marcus Malone wasn’t all that tall really. He probably only stood at 5’10”. But what he lacked in height, he made up for in bulk. He was broad in the shoulders and chest, narrow in the waist and hips. His frame was firm, rippling with muscle, despite the fact that he was going on 50 years old. He wore a black t-shirt that stretched tight across his chest, his stonewashed jeans fitting him snugly but not nearly as tight as Jules’ were. And he was wearing brown Doc Martens. The man had long, thick, brown hair that fell in waves down to his shoulders, something that surprised Holder, considering his age. He had a 5’clock shadow that matched his dark hair, and his eyes were hazel in color, a mix of cinnamon, jade, and steel. His jawline was firm, his cheeks slender.

He didn’t look _anything_ like what Holder had imagined when Tris had talked about him at their office or in the patrol car, _especially_ when considering the fact that he had once been a DEA agent. He had retired 5 years ago though, deciding to take up farming instead and purchasing a plot of land with a spacious cabin and sprawling acreage to house the horses and cattle he now owned. And, unlike his children, he had a thick British accent, another surprise since Tris had never mentioned the fact that her father had come over to the States from England.

“Is that chicken I smell?” Marcus asked, easing away from his daughter and starting towards the kitchen, only to stop in his tracks, his eyes locked on Holder.

Marcus narrowed his eyes slightly and Holder’s brows rose.

“Who the _fuck_ is that?” Marcus demanded, directing his question at his oldest daughter, though his eyes never left Holder’s.

“Daddy, this is Holder. He’s my partner at the precinct. We’ve been working together for the past 5 months, you know?” she reminded him, slowly walking around her father to come stand beside Holder.

Holder offered the man a smile, hoping it was warm and friendly but knowing that it was wavering more than he would’ve liked. For the first time in his life, Holder actually felt intimidated by someone.

“Ah… So _you’re_ the pain in the ass, then?” Marcus questioned, his lips twitching slightly, revealing the fact that he wanted to smile.

Holder cracked a smile, nodding his head, and replied, “I guess that’d be me. But I’ll admit. I’m not the only one that can be a pain in the ass. You ever been cooped up in a car with her for 10 hours? It’s not pretty, let me tell ya.”

Marcus _did_ laugh at that, a deep, hearty laugh that had Holder chuckling right along with him.

“I heard she saved your ass a couple times,” Marcus pointed out, gesturing to his daughter with a nod of his head in her direction.

“She did,” Holder confirmed with a nod of his own, “But I’m guessin’ she never mentioned all the times I saved _her_ stubborn ass?”

“Oh _really?”_ Marcus asked, turning his head to gaze down at his daughter, “She never mentioned that. I think we’ll have to have a little chat about this later… preferably when there’s food in front of me.”

Holder took that hint and stated, “Well the food’s ready, if everyone wants to come fill a plate. There’s plenty here.”

“He’s a smart man,” Marcus said, pointing a finger at him, “He’s got his priorities in line.”

Holder watched as everyone formed a line, his brows rising as he watched them fall into a little hierarchy of sorts. Marcus was the first in line, followed by Jax. Aimsley came next, followed closely by Tris and Jay. And Jules was the last in line. It was like their own little version of a pack or a pecking order. Everyone seemed to know their place, their rank, within the system. So Holder fell into place behind them, not wanting to disrupt the balance of things.

 

**_*****_ **

 

When everyone had filled a plate, they made their way into Tris’ living room, Jax and Marcus taking the two recliners positioned on either side of the couch, Jules taking the seat on the couch that was closest to Jax’s chair, Aimsley sitting in the middle of the couch, and Holder taking the seat closer to Marcus’ chair while Tris took a seat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and Jay sat across from her so that they could sit with the girls and help them with their food. Tris and Jay cut the girls’ chicken into small bites and pointed out what each food item on their plate was before watching as the girls tucked right in.

“So,” Marcus hinted, drawing Holder’s attention away from his partner, “Tell me about the time you saved Tris’ ass at work.”

“Which time?” Holder joked.

“Oh? It happened more than once?” he questioned.

“You really don’t need to tell him that,” Tris piped up between bites.

“Yes, he does,” Marcus insisted, shooting his daughter a pointed glare before he fixed his gaze on Holder once more, “Now. Tell me about it.”

“There was this dealer,” Holder started to explain, “It was like… 3 months into our partnership. She was undercover and I had eyes and ears on her from across the street, just to make sure shit didn’t go sideways, you know? Well he made her and, as you can imagine, he wasn’t exactly happy about it. He smacked her across the face –,”

Marcus dropped his fork, letting it clatter onto his plate, and his hazel eyes narrowed into angry slits even as Holder heard two separate growls come from opposite directions, no doubt from Jax and Aimsley.

“He _what?”_ Marcus demanded.

“He smacked her,” Holder repeated, “That was when I climbed out of the car. And it’s a damn good thing I did too. ‘Cause the bastard grabbed her by the throat and tried to strangle her. I saw red. I couldn’t tell you what I did, couldn’t tell you what I said. But Tris tells me I yanked the guy off of her, threw him to the ground, and started wailin’ on him. I broke his nose, knocked out a couple of his teeth. I don’t really know what all the damage was. They had to pull me off of him when they got to the scene.”

Collective growls came from various directions in the room, indicating that _none_ of Tris’ family or friends were happy about the incident. He knew then that she’d never told them that story.

“Tris never told me that,” Marcus hinted, cocking one brow at his oldest daughter.

“Or me,” Jax added.

“Well she _sure_ as shit didn’t tell _me!”_ Aimsley cried.

“Did anything else happen on the job?” Marcus prompted, his eyes finding Holder once more.

“Well, you know, the normal shit. People shootin’ at us and shit like that,” Holder said with a shrug.

Marcus nodded and Holder caught Jax bristle out of the corner of his eye but he remained silent.

“But no one else tried to put their hands on her?” Marcus pressed.

Holder didn’t think it would be wise to tell his partner’s family about the instances in which different perps or informants had tried to get handsy with her while she was undercover. So he took that into consideration when he gave his next answer.

“Nah,” Holder answered, shaking his head, “No one else laid a hand on her. I didn’t give ‘em the chance. She’s my partner. She’d do the same thing for me. I’ve seen her in action. And, trust me, I wouldn’t wanna get on her bad side.”

“Okay. You can shut up now,” Tris spoke up from her place in front of her younger sister, “No more Tris and Holder stories or I’ll start sharin’ the embarrassing ones where I saved _your_ sorry ass.”

“Oh! Feel free to share those,” Aimsley said, her lips curling up into a wicked little grin.

“Let’s don’t and say we didn’t,” Holder replied.

That coaxed laughter from all of the adults in the room.

Tris shook her head at him and reached back with one hand to pat his leg as she shook her head at him.

“I like him,” Marcus stated, giving a nod of his head in Holder’s direction.

Every jaw in the room dropped and Holder looked around at all of them, his brows furrowed.

“What?” he asked.

“Dad doesn’t like _anyone,”_ Aimsley murmured, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open as she stared at her father.

“Oh…” Holder mumbled, his brows rising as he turned his head to lock eyes with the patriarch of the Malone family.

“You know she never invited her old partner to any of these family things,” Marcus hinted, “And she had him as a partner for 5 years.”

Holder’s brows rose at that and he looked down at Tris to find that she wouldn’t meet his gaze, her eyes shifting from one of her nieces to the other.

“If you girls eat good, Auntie Tris has something special you can have for dessert,” she tried to bargain with the girls.

Both of them perked right up at that and Janelle asked, “You have ice keem, Auntie Twis?”

Trista smiled at the little girl and leaned in closer, whispering loud enough for everyone else to hear, “I have _superman_ ice cream.”

Holder watched as both of the girls’ eyes grew real wide and Janelle blinked a couple times as she gazed up at Tris before inquiring, “You have _supaman_ ice keem?”

“Yep,” Tris answered, “And you can have some if you eat good, J-Bug. So you eat good for daddy and I’ll give you some.”

“I eat good. I pwomise,” Janelle informed her, nodding her little head and picking her fork back up.

“Me too,” Zoey said, stabbing another piece of chicken and lifting it to her mouth.

Holder couldn’t help but smile. He’d never seen his partner interact with children yet and he was honestly surprised by just how good she was with them. Tris wasn’t quick to warm up to people. You had to work long and hard to earn her respect, to earn her trust. She was fierce and ruthless, cunning and manipulative, cool and calculated. So it was definitely a surprise to see her interacting so well with the little ones. She seemed like such a natural, all smiles and praise and gentle prompts. It was so smooth, so effortless.

And, when the girls had finished most of their food, Tris was true to her word, pushing herself up from her place between the girls and gathering their plates before she disappeared into the kitchen to fetch their dessert.

Jax followed them, mumbling something that sounded an _awful_ lot like, “As if they need the extra sugar…”

Aimsley laughed, shaking her head, and announced, “Well, I’ve gotta piss. I’ll be back.”

She disappeared down the hall and Jules and Jay excused themselves, heading in the direction of the kitchen with their dirty plates, leaving Holder alone with the patriarch of the Malone family.

“I’m not stupid, boy,” Marcus informed Holder.

Holder’s brows furrowed and he asked, “What?”

“I see the way you look at her,” Marcus elaborated, jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Holder lied, trying to play dumb as he stabbed his last piece of chicken and lifted it to his mouth.

But it didn’t work with the older man.

Marcus shook his head and scolded, “Rule number one, don’t lie to me, boy. You can play dumb with all of the others. But you’re not foolin’ me. So shut up and listen.”

Holder gave a sharp nod and Marcus leaned forward in his seat, setting his plate on the coffee table to point at Holder and state, “Men have tried to get in her pants for years. That shit doesn’t fuckin’ work. Tris doesn’t work like that. She doesn’t trust people, doesn’t let herself get attached. She builds up these walls and, sometimes, it feels like you’re never gonna get in. But you? You’re different. I don’t know what it is about you, but she’s warmed up to you quick. She trusts you. Don’t fuck that up.”

Holder shook his head hard, replying, “No, sir.”

Marcus went on to say, “You only get one chance with Tris, boy. That’s just how it is. That’s just how she works. You fuck that up and she’s done. If you want her, you grow a pair of fuckin’ balls and open your mouth. Don’t just sit back and wait. She’s not gonna take the initiative for ya. So you make up your mind. You either want her or you don’t. And if you do, then you act now or you’ll lose that chance.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Malone, I’ve only known your daughter for 5 months. Even if I _was_ interested in pursuing a relationship with her, Tris isn’t ready for that yet,” Holder countered.

He wasn’t stupid. While he hadn’t known Tris very long, he knew enough about his partner to know what she was like. And he knew that she would bolt if he moved too fast.

“Are you tryin’ to tell me that I don’t know my own daughter, Holder?” Marcus asked, leaning forward slightly in his chair as he narrowed his hazel eyes at Holder.

Any lesser man would’ve cowered and sank back into the couch. Any lesser man would’ve shut right up. But Holder knew _exactly_ what Marcus Malone was doing. He was using the intimidation factor to try to rattle him.

So Holder held his ground, shaking his head and explaining, “I’m not sayin’ you don’t know her. I’m sayin’ you don’t know her like I do. You’re her father, sir. You know her on a different level than I do. I’m her partner. I spend countless hours with her every day, cooped up in a car for 10 or 12 hours some days with nothin’ to keep us occupied but each other’s company and whatever radio station she chooses that day. I’ve seen several different sides of Tris over the past 5 months. And I know I haven’t known her all that long, but I know her well enough to know that, if I move now, she’ll bolt. Like you said, I only get one chance. So I’m gonna make it count.”

Marcus cocked one brow at him and opened his mouth to speak but Holder continued on, reaching out to set his own plate on the coffee table in front of him as he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “Tris is different. You have to earn her trust, her respect. You have to respect the boundaries she establishes until you learn when it’s okay to overstep those boundaries and when it’s not. You have to listen and observe.”

Marcus nodded slowly, admitting, “I see you _do_ know my daughter well.”

Holder nodded, commenting, “Tris has been disappointed by men in the past. Her trust in men in general has been shaken. I don’t wanna be like all those other guys she’s known in the past. I don’t wanna be just another guy that hurts her or disappoints her. So when I say I’m gonna take my damn time, it’s not because I’m not interested in her. It’s because I fully intend to stand by her, no matter how hard she tries to push me away. I wanna be the one she runs to, the one she finds shelter in, the one that makes her happy. So I’m gonna do what it takes to make that happen. And I don’t care how long it takes.”

Despite the fact that Marcus Malone had tried to intimidate him, Holder had remained firm on his stance. He knew what he wanted and he wasn’t going to sway from that. He wasn’t going to veer off of the path. Instead, he was going to do whatever it took to achieve that goal. If there was one thing he’d come to learn in his life, it was that things weren’t just handed to you. If you wanted something, you had to work for it. You had to _earn_ it. And that was _exactly_ what he was going to do, regardless of what _anyone_ thought.

Marcus gave a slow nod, leaning back in his chair, but remained silent. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he just continued to nod as the others filtered back into the living room.

“Here,” Tris said as she made her way over to the couch, holding a bowl full of colorful ice cream out to him, “I figured you’d want some.”

“Thanks,” Holder replied as he looked down at the pink, blue, and yellow swirls in his bowl.

It looked like a psychedelic wonderland for his taste buds.

“It’s my favorite kind of ice cream,” she explained as she took a seat beside him, leaving Jax to sit between the little girls this time as Aimsley claimed the spot beside her, “I used to eat it when I was a little girl but then it just kind of disappeared. You have _no_ idea how hard it was for me to find this stuff!”

Holder just smiled, his lips curling up into that slow, crooked smirk that he was known for, and said, “Well, all right then. Let’s see if this ‘superman’ ice cream holds up to the hype.”

And, with that, he dug his spoon into the colorful swirls.

 

** Lyrics from the Songs: **

_Everywhere I Go_ by Hollywood Undead

_Salute_ by Little Mix

_Just Can’t Let Her Go_ by One Direction

_Come with Me_ by Echosmith

_Good for You_ by Selena Gomez ft. Asap Rocky

_Dirty Laundry_ by Blackbear

_Ain’t Trippin’_ by Blackbear

 

**_Author’s Note:_** I’d like to thank all of you that actually took the time – and had the courage – to read this all the way through. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any comments, questions, concerns, or suggestions, feel free to hit me up. If you have any ideas for other one-shots that you’d like to see written about these two characters – work-related, smut-related, family-related, playful, or even simple, daily life stuff – don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll take them all into consideration. Thanks again!

Rose


End file.
